Two Sides of the Same Coin Eventually
by Beth Weasley Snape
Summary: She was Hermione Granger, he was Draco Malfoy, she was an ugly ducking, he was the Slytherin sex-God, she was the bossy bookworm and he was the dangerous Death Eater, she was the muggleborn Witch and he was the Pureblood Wizard, but she was Hermione Granger and he was Draco Malfoy, Two Sides of the Same Coin... Eventually. Follow them both in drama, humour, romance, and much more.
1. Chapter 1

**Guys, I cannot write to save myself! But I've decided to try one now that I have the whole summer ahead of me so yeah... I can't promise anything here but I'll try. Any tips and advice and stuff will be greatly appreciated and stuff so yeah.**

 **You all know what I own and what I don't so pointless me wasting time going through it all, love you guys.**

* * *

I could feel the sun on the back of my neck. I knew I should feel grateful that I could, instead of the ice-cold breath of the other inmates and the cold, stone walls in the cells of Azkaban Prison, but all the same, I'd always hated the sun. I tried to keep my thoughts on the task ahead, yet off it, at the same time. What I was about to do was going to be the most difficult thing I'd ever have to do in my life, I knew that, yet at the same time, I couldn't bring myself to shed a tear, feel any emotion whatsoever. I'm a Malfoy. I don't feel emotions.

I listened as he droned on and on, through the whole thing my mind had been wandering back to the good times, back to the times when I was happy and care-free, I couldn't bring myself to think about what the old bastard was saying. They always say the same stuff at these things, don't they? It's almost as if they're scripted, never suited to one person in particular.

I looked over to where my mother sat. I couldn't see her face for that God-awful hat she was wearing but I knew she was crying. I could see it in the way she held herself, in the way her chest was heaving up and down, up and down, as if she were trying to calm herself down and failing miserably. The only woman I've ever loved. My dear mother.

I focused on my footsteps and the weight on my right shoulder. One...Two...One...Two...Left...Right...Left...Right...This couldn't be any slower, could it? I shifted the weight slightly, trying to ease it. I could tell that that was going to be sore in the morning.

I watched as people held each other and spoke in low, comforting voices. I stood alone, at the side of the hole, my hands clasped together in front of me, looking down sombrely. I thought about the past four years, how they'd been the best four years of my life. I felt my chest getting tight. I felt my eyes stinging and getting slightly damp around the edges. I felt that lump in my throat arise, you know, the one you get right before you break down in tears? I felt myself go numb all over. Numb. Yes, numb, I'd have to be, I couldn't cry, not in front of all of these people. I'm a Malfoy. I don't feel emotions.

Lastly, I observed the cool, black marble that had been placed down in the ground with the silky, white writing scrawled across it. I read it over and over again, so often that the words are still imprinted in my mind today. I took my eyes away after reading it at least fifty times, the last word clearest in my mind; 'Damion'.

I straightened myself up, coughed slightly and brushed non-existent dust from my black suit. I began walking away, focusing on my footsteps, the sun on the back of my neck. I began to run. Faster, faster until I couldn't feel anything but the wind in my light, blonde hair, my feet thudding against the concrete and the grass underneath me and the sun on the back of my neck. I didn't stop until I was out of breath completely, and that's when it hit me. And boy, did it hit me hard. I felt the tears roll down my cheeks, I felt all the pain of the day rise to the surface, my body was rocking with the force of my tears, I actually had a pain right where my heart is. I lay on the ground, just sobbing for Godric knows how long. I don't actually remember stopping. I remember getting up, brushing off my suit and starting to walk again. That's when I saw it. A sight I never thought I'd see. A man of average height, messy black hair and glasses, reading from the same cool marble I had been. I saw him bend over and place one white rose beside it. I squinted in the sunlight to see his face clearer. I couldn't see the features clearly, but I'd know that lightning-shaped scar anywhere. That man, was Harry Potter.

* * *

 _Five Year Anniversary of Damion Joseph Malfoy Sees Father, Draco Malfoy Absolutely Sloshed_

I slammed the _Daily Prophet_ down on my desk, my coffee spilling from the cup. I placed my hands flat down on the desk, looking at the picture I have of my mother and I from when I was a child, laughing together and reading a book, and counted, mentally, to ten. That's how the therapist told me to keep my temper. It usually worked, but not today. I felt the rage bubble up in me, the fact I had a hangover from my state of being "Absolutely Sloshed" the night before, not helping whatsoever. I got to ten and felt slightly relieved. I got up from my chair and began pacing the room, wringing my hands as I went. It was that awful Skeeter woman. How someone hadn't hexed her into oblivion yet, I'd never know. I swear, if I ever got within a mile radius of her...

A knock on the door broke my train of thought. I cleared my throat, sat back down at my desk and shouted for the person to come in.

"G-good m-morning Mr M-Malfoy," stammered the new assistant in the department.

He was small and blonde and irritating. He was a Gryffindor but I guess I spent so much time tormenting Potter and his 'Squad' that I hadn't noticed very many other Gryffindorks. And yes, I'm still biased when it comes to Hogwarts Houses.

"Morning," I said curtly. I still didn't know his name.

"Can I g-get you anything, s-sir?" he looked at me eagerly, yet nervously.

"No. What's your name?" I demanded, rubbing my temples.

"Dennis. D-Dennis Creevey, sir," he shifted from foot to foot.

Creevey...Creevey...Cree- Creevey! That irritating boy with the camera! God, that boy worshipped the ground Potter walked on. Pretty sure he was petrified too...

"Finally lost the camera then, huh?" I enquired, taking a sip of what was left of my coffee.

"I'm Dennis sir...N-not Colin," he looked down, snivelling a little.

"Who?" I scratched my head, utterly baffled.

"My older brother. Colin. He was killed in the Final Battle." Dennis promptly began to sob, his nose running, tears rolling down his face.

I looked around for help. I was the only other one in the department today. I didn't know what to do.

"There, there," I said awkwardly, patting his shoulder. "He's...umm... In a better place now?"

Dennis sniffled. "Y-yes sir, you- you're right. Thank you," he wiped his nose on his sleeve.

"My pleasure... now, you go, umm, calm down."

"Thank you, s-sir," he stammered again, turning to leave the office.

"Oh, and Creevey?"

"Yes s-sir?"

"Do try to stop that awful stammering please."

* * *

I held my breath as I walked up the long, cobbled pathway. It had changed. The house, I mean. Everything about it. It was no longer a big, black building, cold and unwelcoming, but a sort of light blueish, grey. There were new flowers planted in the gardens, lilies, roses, violets, bluebells...All very beautiful. In the centre of the garden, there was a large fountain of a group of mermaids, all spewing water into the bowl beneath, with little goldfish swimming around in there. I looked around. Mother had done a good job.

"Draco, darling!"

The door swung open, revealing my mother, standing in the doorway of a bright interior and wearing pink dress robes.

"Mother," I smiled, hugging her and kissing her hand gently.

"Come in, my dear. Can I get you anything? Coffee? Tea? Water? Perhaps something a little stronger? Well, Salazar knows you don't need anything stronger today, and now thanks to Skeeter, so does the rest of the Wizarding community," she glared pointedly at me.

I may be a Malfoy, unwilling to feel emotions, but I always tried my hardest not to disappoint my mother.

"Mother, it was not _nearly_ as bad as Skeeter described. I was mourning. I didn't have my wits about me," I shuffled nervously under her glare.

"And who was the woman in the picture?" she pointed to the moving picture of a woman and I, laughing and stumbling out of a pub on the front of the _Prophet._

"Marion something, Mary something, Melissa some- well, you get the idea," I shrugged.

In all honesty, I didn't remember the girl well. I just remember her handing me shot after shot. She was a member of the Holyhead Harpies though, I remember seeing her with the Weasley girl, who is looking a lot nicer than I remember her being when we were in Hogwarts together. I'd never go for her though. Nobody who's related to Ronald Weasley.

"That's not the way I raised to, Draco," she said coolly.

"I know, Mother, I know."

"I know you miss Damion, but you know if he were still here you wouldn't be leaving anywhere with Marion Mary Melissa something," she replied, sorting her skirt around her as we sat in the lounge.

"Well he isn't here, Mother. My son is dead. I am mourning him. I will do whatever I have to to help me through that process," I snapped.

"Tone, Draco," she said, sharply.

"Sorry."

She ignored me and walked through the small archway into the kitchen. I saw her take some glasses from the top cupboard and fill it with a fine wine from her supply.

"Come, Draco."

I followed her quietly, taking a seat at the wooden table in the centre of the room. She sat down across from me, sliding the glass to me.

"I called you here for a reason apart from Damion," she said, taking a sip. "It has come to my attention, now more than ever, that you have not yet met a suitable witch to settle and marry with."

I chocked on my beverage. " _What?"_

"A witch, Draco. A female Wizard."

"I know what a witch is," I replied dryly, "but since when do you take any interest in my love-life?"

"Or lack thereof," she snorted.

I rolled my eyes, sighing and leaning back in my chair. "You called me here to mock how undesirable I am?"

"No, sweetheart, that's just an added bonus," she beamed. "However, I _am_ having a garden party a week tomorrow and you will be attending. Quite a few of my friends will be here with their daughters. You will be mingling amongst them."

"Mother, I have plans that day, plus I don't think-"

"You _will_ be attending Draco," she said, her tone warning.

I sighed. I knew a lost case when I saw one. I'd just have to bight the bullet and attend this magnificent Garden Party.

"Fine. What shall I wear to this dazzling event?" I asked, sarcasm dripping from the question.

"A suit. Light shirt and tie though sweetheart."

"Great. Just lovely," I smiled sarcastically.

* * *

"I can't help feeling that your heart isn't really in this Garden Party, mate," Blaise said, taking a sip of beer.

"Really? Dear me no, Blaise, I'm practically wetting myself with excitement," I squealed, clapping my hands.

He laughed and put his next card down as I took a sip of my own beer. Disgusting muggle beverages.

"But you will be coming with me, won't you?" I asked, placing my card down with his.

"Looks like I'm gonna have too..." he muttered, rolling his eyes.

"There'll be girls there," I tried to sound light-hearted.

"Yeah. Precious, Pure-Blood, Princesses, mate."

I sighed. I knew he was right. My mother would have arranged for the most spoiled women on earth to come. I knew she secretly wanted a Pure-Blood grandchild. But none of the Pure-Bloods took my fancy and I sure as hell wasn't marrying a muggle.

"I know, Zabini, just please don't make me go alone," I begged.

"The famous Draco Malfoy, Slytherin Sex-God, need a wingman for his mother's Garden Party?" he wiggled his eyebrows, putting on a fake posh voice for the last two words.

"Yes, Blaise, that is exactly what it is. I want to show up, sit in the corner with my head in a book until I look up, see a girl who is majorly out of my league, then trot up to you and ask you to introduce us," I said, sarcastically.

"Sounds like a plan," he smiled, punching me lightly on the shoulder.

"By the way, you need to wear a suit. Preferably with a light coloured shirt and tie."

"I look good in a suit," he replied, lifting up a nearby spoon to admire himself and winking in what he hoped was a seductive way at his own reflection.

I snorted. "Yes dear, the trousers compliments your arse perfectly."

"Why thank you, Draco," he simpered, batting his eyelashes at me.

This is how I knew he and I were supposed to be best friends. If you don't have those slightly gay moments with your friends, they're not really your friend.

* * *

 **Sorry it's a little short guys, the length of the chapters will increase as they go on. Could you give it a review just to tell me what you think? Or even drop me a private message. I do try to reply to all my reviews anyways, so it's not a one-way thing I promise. I need your advice! Thanks a lot guys, I wrote this in an hour at 3:30 am when I hadn't slept the night before and it was a spur of the moment thing so I don't really know where I'm going with this. Love you all.**

 **-Beth Weasley Snape**


	2. Chapter 2

"Just this way Alexa, oh, and Carrie, could you be a dear and show Moira where the restroom is?"

I watched as my mother led several women this way and that. Always had to be doing something, that woman, so restless. I took a sip of the sparkling water from a champagne glass I'd been handed when I was on my way in and looked around. The majority of the guests were middle-aged and elderly witches, very few of them close to my age. I scanned the ones who looked near me in age. I recognised a few, Sophie Paton, a small, squat witch with unruly, curly black hair, massive glasses, yellow teeth and constant sleep in her eyes. She was the most dull person I'd ever encountered. Ever.

Monique Allison, a tall, dark witch who was a suspected Death Eater, but had not been convicted. She was incredibly beautiful- dark, chocolate eyes, long, silky black hair that reached her waist, perfectly even, white teeth that glinted almost threateningly, perfectly shaped lips... She was a great kisser. I'd learned that when I was fifteen. To this day, the best kiss I've ever had.

Leigh Fisher, my first kiss. It had been sloppy and awkward but it still held a place in my heart. Leigh had been one of my best friends growing up. She was always at the manor, playing with me, teaching me things about the muggle world... She was a Pureblood, of course, but her father had a job in the muggle world, trying to fit in as much as possible to the normal world. When my father found this out, Leigh was banned from the manor completely. We were about nine when that happened. But we met in secret for about six months and then just lost contact one day. The last time I saw her, it was the summer before I'd went off to Hogwarts. We were climbing trees. As much as I hate to admit it, she was a lot better than me at it. She had monkey-ability, I swear. She was hanging upside-down from the branch, ruffling my hair, teasing me. Before I knew it, her lips were on mine. I smiled at the memory.

I scanned the rest of the girls. There were approximately eight that I didn't know, but none of them really took my fancy. Except one. Tall, blonde and beautiful, I suspected she was part Veela. She was standing, laughing, with Leigh and Monique. I wanted to be a part of _that_ group.

I checked my watch and tusked. Zabini was almost an hour and a half late. Typical. I wonder who the girl is this time. I walked around the garden myself again, biding my time. I _could_ disappear now. I could go home or into the manor's library, but my mother would Avada Kedavra my ass if she realised I was gone, which she would, almost instantly.

"Draco? Is that _you?"_

I turned around to see who the voice belonged to. Looking back at me, was a tiny woman with grey curly hair and a shit ton of wrinkles. My eyebrows knitted together. I had no idea who this was.

"Yes, it is," I flashed her my most charming smile and pressed my lips to the back of her hand.

I saw a faint blush appear on the old dear's cheeks.

"You look handsome as ever," she smiled.

"As do you, ma'am, absolutely stunning," I smiled again.

She swooned and looked over her shoulder, giving two even older looking witches a smile.

"I believe you know my great granddaughter?" she enquired, reaching into her handbag and pulling out a week old _Prophet_ article.

Looking back at me was me, absolutely hammered, staggering around drunkenly with my arm around a girls shoulders. She was pretty, no denying it. She was of average height, freckled with vibrant red hair. If I hadn't known better, I'd've sworn she was a Weasley, but I knew Ginny was the only girl there had been in ages. I could see bits of her in her great grandmother; the eyes, the smile, the dimples.

"Yes, I believe I do," I said coolly.

"My Millie hasn't shut up about you since," her eyes sparkled.

 _Millie!_ I _knew_ it had started with an M! I felt a wave of relief wash over me. I hated not knowing the names of my lady friends. It made me feel cheap, nasty.

Before I had a chance to reply to the old witch, a loud crack sounded and Blaise appeared beside me.

"Sorry I'm late, mate, I was-"

He cut off abruptly, taking in the crowd around us.

"Can I speak with you alone for a moment please?" he gave me a warning smile.

"Of course," I replied carefully. "Excuse me, ladies," I smiled charmingly and led Zabini away.

"When you said you had to meet a suitable witch of your mother's taste, that isn't exactly the image that sprung to my mind, mate," he smirked.

"Really? Because she's exactly my type," I rolled my eyes. "Now where the bloody fuck were you? You're an hour and a half late."

"I know I am, but I was with a girl, really beautiful, Draco, seriously. Big blue eyes, black hair, stunning figure, I think she's an ex of Ron Weasley's though," he frowned.

"Weasley," I spat the name, "he just can't keep a woman."

"Speaking of his past women, mate," Blaise said, his tone getting more electric every second, "I bumped into a few girls from Hogwarts when I was dropping Caitlin off. Those twins, Padma and Parvati Patil was it? Lavender brown, who, by the way, hasn't gotten any prettier, and Granger."

"And you're telling me this because?" I asked, dryly, examining my perfectly slender hands.

"Granger, mate. I want her next."

I spat out my water. Granger? _Granger?_ Didn't he remember what she was like in school? A third of the Golden Trio, for crying out loud! He couldn't _possibly_ want Granger. Plus, Blaise always went for looks, never personality and Godric knows Granger lacks in both categories there. All she had was brains.

But all I managed to say was, " _What?"_

"You should _see_ her. She's gotten beautiful, seriously stunning."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I was torn between surprise that Blaise wanted Granger and surprise at the fact she was apparently stunning.

"I don't particularly _want_ to see her, Blaise."

"Oh, I think you might want to get on her good side soon enough, Draco. She's just got a _massive_ promotion in the Ministry... So have Potter and Weasley and you know what that means. They'll be rounding up previous Death Eaters by the dozen. None of them like you... You might want to try and get cosy with them."

I took a deep breath. I knew they didn't like me, I knew I'd made mistakes in the past, but Azkaban? Would any of the three of them stoop so low as to resort to putting me in prison because we didn't get on in school? They might be goody-two-shoes' but they weren't as spiteful as that...I was sure of it. All the same, I decided to start making an effort.

"Okay, what do you suggest?"

* * *

I stared at my reflection in the mirror as I fixed my tie. I had a nice home. I'd moved in about four and a half years ago. I needed to get out of that cottage I'd lived in with Damion...Too many memories.

I sighed. I knew what I had to do to ensure I wasn't going to prison for something I'd done about ten years ago, even if it did haunt me all day and all night, all day every day. Suck up to the Golden Trio. It was the last thing I wanted to do, but it was necessary. I knew Blaise wouldn't have suggested it if he could see another way around it. Seriously, any other way would be better than this.

Blaise had gone to the trouble of finding out Potter's schedule for the day, as someone had let slip in his department that Potter was in the Ministry all day for a change, although he was in and out of meetings. I planned on going down to his department to see how things were going with one of my clients and if things were in favour of him or not, and then I'd strike up a conversation with Potter about Godric knows what until he sees that I am a changed man. An intelligent, hilarious, non-Death Eater, highly attractive, changed man. He'd tell the Weasel I was great now, he wouldn't believe him and want to see for himself, so I'd turn on the charm for Ginger and they'd be sure to tell Granger. Sorted.

I grimaced as I pulled my jacket on and grabbed my briefcase from beside the door. I took one more look around my apartment and held my wand tightly, thinking about the outside of the Ministry. I felt the familiar tug at my navel and a spinning sensation I hated to this day. I landed with a thud next to an old lamp post and began to walk towards the entrance. I took a deep breath. This was it.

* * *

"Morning, sir," chirped a far too happy, Dennis Creevey.

"Morning," I replied, trying to be civil.

"Can I get you anything sir? Tea? Coffee? Butterbeer? Water? Firewhisky? Although, I doubt a fine man like you would want to drink on the job sir. Not that I'd judge if you did, of course," he amended hastily, "but I can get you whatever you'd want. I've even worked on that stammering issue you mentioned that time, did you notice? I haven't stammered _once_ since we've started talking; oh, I bet I've jinxed myself now..."

I looked around disbelievingly. I'd been in my office all of two seconds and he was already making me contemplate which window I should launch myself through. Fab. Just what I needed today. I let myself drift off into my own little world for a while, just until he'd stopped talking. I thought about Weasley, Potter and Granger, about which one would be hardest to win forgiveness from. Probably Weasley, I decided. Potter and I may have had our differences, to say at the least, in the past, but he was forgiving, I'll say that for him. Granger would forgive me the second she saw me, a handsome man like me...she won't be able to resist.

"Well, sir?"

I coughed awkwardly. "Sorry, what was that, Creevey?"

"Can I get you anything?" he repeated, slightly wounded.

"No, no thank you, I'll let you know if I do though."

At the last part, he perked up instantly. "Okay sir, you know where I am if you need me... right out there," he said, pointing eagerly and knocking an ornament from the shelf beside him. "Oh sir, I'm so sorry, I'll clean this up and get you a new one, oh sir, I'm sorry," he gabbled, bending down to amend his mistake.

"Allow me," I said, gently steering him out of the door.

"Are you sure, sir? I'm really good at cleaning, honestly I am, I can do it, see?" he bent down again.

"That won't be necessary, Dennis, really," I said, half shoving him out of the door before closing it firmly and taking a deep breath.

"Sweet Salazar, that boy can talk," came a voice behind me.

"Fuck!" I yelled, jumping about a meter into the air. " _Blaise!_ How long have you been in there?" I asked, looking towards a cupboard at the back of the room.

"Since I heard Creevey's voice," he smirked.

"It would be highly appreciated if you didn't hide in my office from now on, Zabini," I glared, pointedly.

"Technically, I wasn't hiding in the first place, but admit it. If you'd had the chance to hide from Creevey, you'd take it too."

I couldn't argue with him, so instead, I rubbed my eyes and sat down at my desk.

"I got Potter's schedule. Want to see?" he asked, handing me a piece of folded paper with messy writing scrawled across it.

"Could your writing get any worse, Blaise?" I squinted, trying to make out the print.

"Oh, shut up and read it, dumbass," he huffed.

I read it carefully, trying to memorise it as soon as possible. Nine o'clock, he was in a meeting until 11:30, 12:00 he stopped for lunch, 13:00 he had a meeting, 14:00 he was free, 16:50 another meeting and then home at 17:40. How many meetings does this guy go to?

"So, I was thinking, you could bump into him at lunch, you know, accidentally," Zabini winked, "and then at two fifteen, you go to his office and ask him if he has Joseph Harmon's muggle phone number and then you stay, chat for a bit, win him over and bam! He's yours."

I had to admit, it sounded like a pretty solid plan. But a part of me would rather go to Azkaban than suck up to The-Boy-Who-Didn't-Bloody-Die.

"Okay, so I've got about four hours until I have to kiss ass?"

"Yup," grinned Zabini, "Now tell me, do you think these jeans make me look fat?"

* * *

"The fact is though, Dansley, I _can't_ attend that meeting at the weekend. It may only be, how did you put it? 'One Floo Away' but I can't just pop over to France for the weekend, not when Ginny's so close to the end."

I watched as Potter piled his plate with salad from the buffet lunch table. I'd never had lunch in the Ministry before, I always preferred to go out somewhere with Blaise, but it didn't look too bad.

"What does he mean, Ginny's so close to the end?" whispered Blaise. "I never particularly liked the girl, but I don't want her dead."

"I don't know, Blaise, just let me pop over and ask him," I said, sarcastically.

He rolled his eyes. "You joke now, but soon enough you'll _have_ to pop over to talk to him," he said, smugly.

"It can't be anything serious, he looks too happy and you know how much he loves Ginny Weasley," I spat.

"Someone sounds jealous," he sang.

I shot him a look and he stopped talking. I was contemplating going over at that very moment but I had no idea how he'd react. I was nervous, as much as I didn't want to admit it. I didn't want to have to face him again. He knew what a coward I was. I was ashamed of myself.

"I'm going to do it, Blaise, right now," I took a deep breath. "I'll just walk over, say hi, shake his hand and apologise, I guess...How hard can it be, eh?"

"Umm Draco, you might not want to go over right now," he sounded uncertain.

"What? Why?" I snapped, slightly annoyed I'd just plucked up the courage and he'd shot me down so quickly.

"I think I figured out what Potter meant when he said Ginny was so close to the end," he said, nodding towards a door at the other side of the room.

I gave him a questioning look and turned around to look. Coming towards us was the biggest woman I'd ever seen in my life. She was walking, bent over backwards with an expression of complete and utter fury written across her face. In that moment, she looked exactly like her mother did whenever she heard what her twins had done that year at Hogwarts, and quite frankly, I was terrified of both of the woman.

"Harry James Potter, will you get your arse over here and stop having your heavily pregnant wife hobbling around hopelessly please?!" she snarled.

"Ginny, what're you doing here?" Harry asked tenderly, Transfiguring something into a chair for her to sit in.

"I came here to see why you weren't answering your pager, which we decided, together, might I add, that you would have on at all times incase I needed you," she snapped.

"Sorry, love, I was in a meeting and I've only just got out of it. I never noticed the pager go off once. What's wrong?" he asked, bending down slightly to peck her cheek lightly, brushing away strands of flame red hair.

"I feel ill. Like I've never felt before. Not when I was having James or throughout this pregnancy either."

"Do you think it's serious? Should we go to St. Mungo's?" he asked, worriedly.

Typical Potter, always the first to do something practical in an emergency instead of going with gut instinct.

"I don't know, you fool, that's why I paged you!" she screeched.

Harry blinked behind his glasses a few times. "Perhaps we should, you know, just to be on the safe side?"

Ginny huffed. It was blatantly obvious that going to the hospital was the last thing she wanted to do. She wanted to feel better there and then. Not an ounce of patience did that girl have. Then, all of a sudden, she inhaled sharply, Harry jumping and holding her hand.

"Ginny, love, are you okay?"

"It- it was just a kick. A sharp kick," she announced firmly, but she didn't look too sure.

"Ginny, I really think we ought to go to the hospital just to be sure," he fussed.

"Fine, Doctor Potter," she said, sarcastically, "let's go right now."

She made to get out of her chair but not even a moment later, fell back into it with a deafening screech, clutching her stomach. Before we knew it, there was water crashing onto the floor and flowing towards us. I looked at Blaise in horror, a look he kindly returned.

"Should we slip out now?" he whispered, but I couldn't move, I was frozen to the spot.

"Harry, I'm not ready yet, I can't have this baby," she panted, looking at him helplessly.

"It'll be okay, love, I promise, it'll be okay," he tried to sound certain, reassuring, but it came out like a question. "Someone _do something!"_ he yelled behind him.

I didn't even realise I was moving. Before I knew it, I was standing beside Ginny Weasley, massaging her shoulders, telling her to focus on her breathing.

"Harry, who-who is that?" she panted, trying not to show how much pain she was in.

He stared blankly at the two of us.

" _Harry!"_

"It's... It's Malfoy."

* * *

"That was quick thinking on your friend's part, Mrs and Mrs Potter," the old Healer said, looking from Ginny to me to Harry.

"He's not our friend," snarled Ginny.

"Ginny," Harry muttered clearly awkward at his wife's tone.

"It's okay, Potter," I said under my breath.

"Well after this he ought to be!" the Healer exclaimed. "He saved your baby's life."

Ginny averted her eyes. I knew tears had sprung to them and she didn't want me to see.

"I wouldn't go as far as to say I saved the baby's life," I muttered, uncomfortable.

"Nor would I, the baby could still die," Ginny snapped.

Harry went pale. "Ginny, don't say things like that. Please."

"Why not? We both know that it could end badly, why not just admit it to ourselves. It'll help deal with the heartache later!" she screamed.

"Why don't we give her some time alone?" Healer Donald suggested, gently bustling Potter and I out of the room. "I'm going to run some tests to see the odds on the baby's wellbeing. You two are welcome to go and get coffee or a bite to eat," and with that, he shuffled away, leaving Harry and I alone together.

There was an awkward silence in the air. I didn't know how to break it. I looked anywhere but at my old rival, unwilling to make eye contact with him.

"Thank you, Malfoy," he said stiffly.

"You don't have to thank me, Potter, I wasn't going to let your wife or child die," I replied, almost robotically.

"You could have though. But you didn't. And for that, I'm thankful."

I finally found the courage to look at the man standing before me. "Potter-," I started.

"I need to go check on Gin, you can go if you'd like, none of this is your responsibility."

Oh," it seemed to be all I was able to say. "O-okay. Good luck, Potter. Wish Ginny my best."

I started off along the corridor, not daring to look behind me. I knew Potter had returned to his wives side and I knew that nobody else was behind me, but I kept my eyes steadily on the ground, counting my footsteps to distract myself. I wasn't turning back.


End file.
